The Evil that Befell Sampson
Page 1
A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Tale from the Archives
The Evil that Befell Sampson
By Philippa Ballantine
The Evil that Befell Sampson
Philippa Ballantine
Copyright Philippa Ballantine 2010
“We all know you are the best person to deal with peculiar things,” Mrs. Kate Sheppard smiled at the younger woman standing before her, “And quite frankly what has been going on is most peculiar indeed.”
Though she was asking for help from Eliza D Braun, Field Agent in the South Pacific Branch of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences her tone was warm and friendly. However, even though they had known each other for a long time, more than a quarter of Eliza’s life, she still did not feel entirely comfortable around the older woman. Hero worship would do that to pretty much anyone who entertained it. Even more so, when that very same heroine is was one that Eliza hoped could be her mother-in-law given time.
So the younger woman had tried to shake it off many times, but it stubbornly clung to her psyche. Mrs. Sheppard was everything the Agent strove to be: brave, kind and gentile. The first Eliza had easily mastered, the second she managed on occasion, but the third often eluded her.
Kate sat on a walnut parlour chair upholstered in emerald green in the sunshine, her fine white-blond hair fairly gleaming, and her hands folded on her lap. At her side, a small doily-covered table held a steaming teapot, two cups, and a selection of little biscuits. Mrs. Sheppard’s posture was erect and firm. She could have taught it in a finishing school.
A more graceful example of Victorian womanhood could not have been found, and yet Eliza was aware that many in New Zealand thought of her as the most dangerous person in the country. She peddled radical ideas, would not be silenced, and encouraged others to rally around her. In other words, she was the pre-eminent suffragist in the nation.
Eliza was both fascinated and terrified of her. Though she worked for the Ministry, she was still a suffragist, and proud to wear the white camellia.
She cleared her throat. “I’m glad to be off assistance, Mrs. Sheppard. However I hope Douglas told you I am the most junior field agent in the Ministry. I should caution that I might find nothing at all.”
The suffragist’s remarkable blue eyes fixed on the young woman, examining her with the intensity of a hawk. “You’ve shown a lot of promise, Eliza, and my son has nothing but good things to say about you—not to mention you are one of the few female agents in the Ministry. All that makes you rather special.”
“I try, Mrs. Sheppard,” Eliza murmured, not quite sure what to do with this unexpected compliment.
“Since we are to be working together you need to stop calling me that. I insist you call me Kate.” She turned and began to pour the tea from the blue and white pot. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Both please.” Eliza was grateful of the moment this little ritual afforded her, since she was not quite sure how to broach the next subject. So she did what she always did, ploughed forward.
As she took the cup from Kate, she ventured her real concern. “The trouble is that the Ministry has had no cases from Dunedin in the last six months. So I couldn’t really tell them what I am doing here. I had to make up some excuse about a sick aunt.”
Kate’s lips twitched. “I am happy to play that role if it means you can help the movement.” She leaned forward. “You see, the reason is that it hasn’t been passed to the Ministry, is because all the men do not find it peculiar at all.”
The tea really was a most excellent Darjeeling. Eliza took another long sip before replying. “Then I have an advantage over them. Please tell me what has been going on?”
“The men call it women coming to their senses.” Kate stirred her second cup of tea, concentrating deeply on doing so; the annoyance her voice gave away was consequently slight. “I am sure you know we have had a tradition of many strong and stalwart supporters in this town. The women of Dunedin have in fact weathered many attacks by that cad Henry Smith Fish.”
“I had heard he was starting his own petition against the female franchise.”
“Yes, by herding up drunken men while they are in the public houses.” Kate’s smile was sharp. “Everyone saw right through that tactic though, and I am afraid the new names people invented for him were rather…cutting.”
Eliza had heard that too, and smiled right along with her hero. “‘The talking fish’, ‘flapping fish head’ and ‘fish out of water’? It is all really too easy with his last name.”
Kate tiled her head. “Yes, well despite all that humour, Mr. Fish is a dreadful opponent, and we were all keeping an eye on him. What we were not expecting was our own ladies to turn on us.”
“Pardon?” Eliza froze in place. She was well acquainted with the ladies of the suffrage movement, and the idea that they would abandon that cause was unbelievable. She would have almost expected Mr. Fish to wear the white camellia before that would happen.
“I am afraid so.” Kate stared down into her cup. “Our strongest supporters, those with the most influence and money, have begun wearing the red camellia.” She picked her own white flower from her buttonhole and glanced at it. “Even Miss Burgess, who is nearly seventy and has been committed to the cause her whole life. Even she has changed coat, and will no longer receive my calls.”
It was impossible to know what to say, so instead Eliza got to her feet. “She will not however refuse a visit from a government official! I shall see to this at once.”
The older woman rose too. “Thank you, Eliza. I am dreadfully busy with getting the petition to parliament, but this has been worrying me. I really can’t understand it at all.”
The agent dipped her eyes away, her heart swelling with the opportunity to shine before Douglas and his mother. “Leave it with me,” she paused, “Kate.”
The suffragist saw her to the front door. “Mabel is an old lady, Eliza. If you can find out why without using any of your more…extreme methods that would be best.”
Eliza gave her a crooked smile. “I promise not to blow anything up, just to prove a point.”
The suffragist laughed as she held the door open. “I know you will do your best—but I shall not expect miracles.”